


The Scent of You

by HelixScope



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dirty Talk, Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eventual Smut, Geralt's Canonically Huge Cock, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Scenting, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27690230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelixScope/pseuds/HelixScope
Summary: Jaskier went and let some random guy cum all over him the night before he's meant to meet Geralt to go on a quest.Experience has taught him not to show up smelling like other guys around Geralt, so he has to fix the situation ASAP before Geralt's witcher senses scent out the truth.(Basically, Geralt eventually finds out what happened, loses his shit, and sex ensues in Chptr 2).
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 529





	1. Chapter 1

Jaskier blinked bleerily awake, his long lashes fanning slowly as his blue eyes focused on the man lying next to him in the crowded bed. The other man was turned away from him, his brown hair splayed over his pillow.

It all came rushing back to him in a second – how drunk he was and how the handsome stranger (Finn? Jim? Tim?) had been making eyes at him all evening. He’d preened under the attention, it’d been a while since Jaskier shared a bed with a man. Tim? Tim finally sidled up to him and whispered low and hot in his ear about how he’d like to see Jaskier’s lips wrapped around something other than a flute. Jaskier agreed enthusiastically, dragging him back to his room to show him some of his other talents.

Not wanting to wake his bed partner from the previous night, Jaskier stirred slowly – but stopped momentarily when he felt something cold and tacky slide slowly down his chest. Jaskier’s eyes widened and he let out a frustrated groan _, fuck._ Was he really so inebriated out of his brains the previous night that he’d let some random stranger cum on him the day he was meant to meet Geralt?

In a twisted masochistic move, his brain slowly replayed the 11 pints of beer he’d chugged back over the span of three hours said previous night.

‘ _Fuck_ ’ he whispered out loud this time. He was meant to ride out to meet Geralt in around, triple FUCK, two hours to get on the road to Temeria to hunt down some werewolves. And the absolute last thing under this gods damned sun that he wanted was a repeat of the events of June ’73.

* * *

_‘Geralt, can you please tell me what in Melitele’s sodding tits I’ve done to make you treat me so appallingly? I must’ve done something, you’re behaving even more unbearably crotchety and cantakerous than usual.’_

_He’d seen Geralt’s face scrunch up in disgust the second he’d pulled his horse up next to Roach at their meeting point, nostrils flaring and yellow eyes flashing momentrily with some unknown shadow. He’d waved it off as one of the many times Geralt’s witcher sensitivies had caught whiff of something none too pleasant. But, it had now been a whole day since they started riding, and despite Jaskier’s every attempt at charming jabber, singing, storytelling and all other talents, Geralt’s face remained stony, saying nothing in return. He’d never held out on exchanging quips and banters with Jaskier this long before, and the latter man’s heart constricted painfully with anxiety. He was wondering, not for the first time, if he was just a nuisance to Geralt, if he’d one day really seriously refuse to let Jaskier accompany him on anymore of his misadventures._

_The thought broke Jaskier’s heart. He’d been head over heels for his witcher for years now. And who could blame him? Who wouldn’t fall in love with someone of Geralt’s deep kindness and stubborn faith in humanity? Plus, it didn’t hurt that the man looked like Adonis’s personal gift to him – long white hair, smouldering eyes, a mischevious smirk, broad shoulders that could easily support the weight of Jaskier’s legs thrown over them. Gods, and that ass. That fucking ass. He felt his dick twitch just thinking about all the times Geralt’s witcher armour had clung to his body in juuusstt the right places after getting soaked._

_So, yes, he was a complete and utter fool. He’d gone and fallen for the one man who would never return his affection. For this reason, he contented himself with the precious time he was able to spend with him, sneaking glances at Geralt every second he got, soaking in every detail he could and storing it away for the cold and lonely nights spent away from him._

_Geralt turned his head away from him, his hands balling into tight fists around Roach’s reins._

_‘It’s nothing.’_

_‘You forget how well I know you, my dear witcher, and I know for a fact that something crawled up your ass and died from the moment we started out.’_

_Geralt’s head snapped back round to lock eyes with Jaskier, molten yellow on impossibly blue. His lips curled back in barely withheld anger, ‘I think that’s my line’, he growled._

_Jaskier blinked, wide-eyed and genuinely confused, ‘What? Which part?’_

_‘Crawled up your ass. You smell like another man’s seed,’ Geralt gritted out between clenched teeth._

_Later, Jaskier would pride himself on not flinching at this, merely flushing a deep shade of crimson. Coming from anyone else, he would have taken these words as a reflection of nothing short of furious jealousy. But from Geralt? Geralt who’d been in love with Yen for as many years as he’d written songs about it? Who bedded whores at every inn that would let him in? They’d gone whoring **together** for fuck’s sake, and Geralt had never once shown any interest in Jaskier. _

_No, not jealousy. Only in the bard’s wildest dreams. In reality, there was only one logical reason Geralt was this affronted by the smell of another man on him. And that was: men being together sexually disgusted him._

_He now realised why Geralt looked so constipated. He was actively trying not to breathe in from his nose and only through his mouth._

_Jaskier felt like all the wind in his lungs had been punched out of him._

_‘And? A man_ _can’t_ _have his fun?’ he tried to laugh through the stinging building round his eyes. He felt rejected, and, as foolish as it was, whatever small hope he had had that Geralt might one day reciprocate his feelings, had evaporated completely._

_Something in Geralt’s eyes flickered, he suddenly looked a lot wearier than before. He looked away from the bard again, Roach still cantering alongside his horse._

_‘Y-yes. Yes you can have your fun. Just not around me. Please.’_

_Jaskier swallowed the lump in his throat. His chest was still clenching painfully and his breathing was uneven._

_‘O-ok. Never again.’ Please don’t hate me, please don’t hate me, please don't hate me._

* * *

The rest of the days had gone by excruciatingly slowly, Geralt still unwilling to say much to the bard beyond ‘hmmm’. Jaskier had come away from the entire ordeal completely destroyed, convinced Geralt would never want to see him again. Luckily, after a few months, they’d crossed paths coincidentally at the same inn and Geralt was back to being his broody and impertinent self. His smile reached all the way up to his eyes again, making the corners crinkle. Jaskier could feel his broken heart seal up slightly at the cracks.

_Ok, time to get up._

He rose from the bed in one quick movement, wincing slightly at the ache in his lower back.

It’s not that Jaskier had any issues with men cumming on him, in fact – he was inclined to it. It’s more that to clean himself properly he’d need a bath, which he obviously didn’t have time (or coin, blasted beers) for now. Even with a bath, there was no guarantee the scent wouldn’t linger on him, unbeknowst to him but waiting to be picked up by someone with a superhuman sense of smell. On top of all that, he’d just run out of his usual perfume last week – with a perfumery nowhere in sight. His plan had been to top up in Temeria.

He’d have to wipe himself down with the washcloth using the small basin of water provided with the room meant to clean their faces in the morning, and pray to whoever was listening that it would do a good enough job to remove the smell. _Bloody witcher senses._

It took him a good half an hour making sure he’d got everything off him. The skin on his chest was rubbed raw and flaming red thanks to the scrubbing. Then he donned his clothes from the previous night, tried to straighten them out as much as possible, glanced over to the bed to make sure the man hadn’t stirred, and left the room with a soft click of the door behind him.

Now, all he had to do was get to his horse and ride out swiftly to meet Geralt on time at their meeting point.

_Twenty minutes later_

After saddling up his mare at the stable he’d left her at the night before, he pulled her gently and firmly by the reins out on the street. He was just about to hitch himself onto her, one foot already in the stirrup, before one of the nearby street hawker’s cries caught his attention.

‘OINTMENTS FOR ALL AILMENTS, CRAFTED BY EXPERT HERBALIST. GET ‘EM WHILE STOCK LASTS! OINTMENTS, OINTMENTS...’

Jaskier slowly lifted up the lapel of his doublet and took a long, hard sniff. After last night’s events, it certainly didn’t smell crisp or clean. Or, probably, much like him. In lieu of his favourite perfume, some greasy ointment might do instead as long as it was strong enough to mask any other scent, like, for example, such as, cum.

He strode over to the vendor, pulling along his mare and stopped in front of the vendor.

‘My good sir, how much are these ointments? And may I also inquire as to what herbs they’re made from?’ He picked one up idly, grazing his nose over the sealed lid.

‘Ai, they’ll only cost you a few coppers – but they’re worth their weight in gold, ye mark my words!’ the vendor’s eyes were shining, sensing a sale was at hand, ‘they’re a sweet concotion of lavender, rose and peppermint. They’re sure ta remedy any saddle sore and relieve any burn.’

Lavender, rose and peppermint packed a punch all right, he could smell the dizzying combination even through the seal. Geralt wouldn’t be able to get past it, even with his special white wolf snout. _I need this_.

‘Would youuuu...’, Jaskier made sure his eyes were as big and blue as they could possibly be, ‘possibly consider exchanging one of your _lovely_ ointments for a song and a jig? To help attract more attention and customers to your venture here?’

‘Songs and jigs dunna light the fires when it’s cold a’ night. But I’m a businessman a’ hart. Tell ye what. If three people buy this ointment thanks to yer singin’, I’ll give ye one free.’

‘Let’s shake on it then, good sire!’ beemed Jaskier. If there’s one thing he knew, it’s that the gentlefolk of Tretogar would not be able to resist him. And a quick fifteen minute performance might just save him a week’s worth of pain riding alongside a resentful witcher. He tied up his mare to a nearby post, and retrieved his lute from where it was strapped to her side.

In fact, soon after he began to strum one of his most popular tunes, a small crowd had collected around the vendor. He stopped his singing to promote the ointments.

After fifteen minutes, five ointments had been sold. He finished his song and the crowd dispersed, although some still lingered eyeing the ointments.

‘Well, my good sir – I hope I have done a satisfactory job.’

‘Ai, well done me lad! Fair is fair, here’s a jar and some oils to spare, for ye travels and my thanks.’

Jaskier couldn’t stop grinning. Who said bards weren’t good for anything?! Oh right, Geralt. He snorted, how little he knows.

Jaskier tucked the ointment away under his doublet, untied his mare and rode out of town a little way until he was more or less alone. Then, still sat utop the horse, he undid his doublet and the top of his breeches, and started smearing and rubbing the ointment liberally over his skin. Under his ears, right at the point where his neck met the line of his jaw, down his neck, and he gave extra special attention to his chest.

His eyes were burning and his nose moist – it was honestly a very strong smell. Not at all like his usual preference of perfume. _Geralt will never know._ All he had to do was to reapply in the morning before Geralt woke for a couple of days until he could be sure the scent had gone, and he’d be home free.

If Jaskier could’ve, he would’ve definitely pat himself on the back, ‘I’m a fucking genius!’ he exclaimed loudly, throwing his arms out straight.

‘ _Jaskier?_ What the fuck are you doing? _’_

If Jaskier could’ve, he would’ve definitely choked himself right now. He turned his head slowly, arms still splayed out straight, to rest his eyes on, sure enough, Geralt looking at him from atop Roach, his head cocked to the side in clear confusion and his eyes roaming his body from top to bottom.

Jaskier’s mind was still stuttering to regain consciousness after the unexpected shutdown, but was suddenly made aware of two things.

  1. His doublet and his breeches were still undone. He looked, he looked like an absolute _lunatic_ , with his arms still stretched out, baring his flesh to the world, with a _bloody jar of ointment still in his hand_.
  2. _God_ honestly did Geralt get more unbearably attractive every time they met? Jaskier bit his lip. His hair was tied back at the top, the rest of his silver hair flowing underneath. Tendrils of loose hair tickled his face, some falling loosely into this beautiful golden eyes and making him look casually dangerous.



Jaskier shivered.

He slowly folded down his arms, drawing them back to his body. Geralt’s eyes were trained on Jaskier’s chest, slipping out of focus before snapping back to impossibly blue eyes when the bard started speaking.

‘G..Geralt, my dear friend, what are you doing here? I thought you were coming from Novigrad and we’d meet at the border. Hahaha, I’m sure you’re wondering what in gods name I’m doing here, in the middle of nowhere, but you see – I had an unbearable case of of (Jaskier hadn’t thought this far, hadn’t thought what excuse he’d use to explain away the heavy ointment use) of bed-bug rash! Yes, bed-bug rash,would you believe it, it’s those flee-ridden inns’ doing of course, and it’s been an awful nuisance and I simply couldn’t stand it one second longer and so I tho-’

‘Jas _._ Stop. I had a minor contract came up unexpectedly in Tretogar. Rode in this morning, thought I might catch up to you at some point,’ Geralt paused, wrinkling his nose, ‘You smell ... not like you’. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell per se, he took a few deep breaths – it smelt like lavender, peppermint and, was it rose? Yes, rose. It just didn’t smell like Jaskier. Jaskier smelt like soft lilac and lemongrass most days. When it was just Jaskier’s skin though – Geralt’s eyelids closed halfway – he didn’t have any words to describe the smell of his bare skin, not tainted with any perfume or soap. So _raw_ and _Jaskier_. All he knew was that he was addicted to it. Dreamt about it in his sleep, imagining it mingling with his own smell when he’d cum hot and slow into Jaskier’s ass, making him moan low and needy as he did.

Geralt snapped himself out of his stupor, eyelids lifting back up to wide-awake position and settling once again on the sheen on Jaskier’s toned stomach. The smell was coming from there. Weird place to get bed-bug rash on, he knew that Jaskier slept on his back. Geralt furrowed his silver brows, creasing his forehead – there was something off about this whole story, but he wouldn’t press Jaskier further if he didn’t want to tell him.

Anyway, he’d take this smell over him smelling like another _fucking man_ any gods damn day of the year. Fuck, even the memory of it was making his fists ball up again.

‘Ah yes, well, to ease the itchiness of the ... bed-bug rash, I have been quite liberal with this soothing ointment. Is it too much to bear?’

‘A rash? Ointment?,’ Geralt breathed heavily out, pinching the bridge of his nose, _fucking bards_ , ‘I can’t smell anything else other than it even at this distance. Not sure I like it, especially while we’re on the hunt for werewolves. Won’t be able to pick up their tracks.’ And, was he imagining things now? Was that relief flashing across the bard’s face?

‘Terribly sorry about it, it’s only for a couple more days until the rash subsides.’

Geralt grunted.

‘Let’s just hope nothing else attacks us until then,’ he said. Jaskier beamed at him, buttoned up his doublet in one fluid motion with his long elegant fingers, tucked the jar he had been holding onto into his pack, and lead his horse next to Roach.

‘Shall we to Temeria, my dear witcher?’ Geralt felt a wave of pleasure roll through him at the possessiveness in the phrase, even if he knew it meant nothing. Jaskier would flirt with a rock if it so occurred to him. He knows, he’d seen it happen.

‘Hm.’

Jaskier was all too pleased with himself knowing he’d pulled this one off out of his ass (quite literally). He patted the ointment in his pack, smiling to himself. He could go on existing and being at Geralt’s side for a little while longer then, for as long as he’d have him really. And in that moment, nothing in the world mattered more than that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure - this is my first time writing smut and I had no idea it was this difficult. Respect for all the amazing fanfic authors out there who write entire novels of this stuff. Seriously. I'll never take smut for granted again, so help me gods.
> 
> So, here it is. Hope it's halfway decent and fairly enjoyable. 
> 
> Huge thank you to all of you who left kudos on the first chapter, it means a lot!

They’d been on the road for a day and a night by now, and Geralt hadn’t stopped grumbling about the overly flowery smell the whole time. His initial thoughts on the fact that it wasn’t too bad had worn away quickly within a few hours – and honestly he thought he could go the rest of his long life without ever having to smell lavender again. It was everywhere at this point, on all of Jaskier’s possessions, his fucking horse, on Geralt’s hands, his clothes, everything.

And yes, of course it bothered him on a superficial level. But it also bothered him on a much more practical level – he had gone from relying on two of his usual sense – smell and sound – to just one. He wasn’t used to it, and he didn’t like it. Especially when Jaskier was around. Soft, breakable, human Jaskier, who’s easily roughed up by a common whore, let alone otherwordly monsters or wolves. Geralt felt like he was constantly on edge, waiting for danger at any corner, listening intently to make up for his impaired scent.

He smiled absent-mindedly. Jaskier was always dragging him into shit with him, completely oblivious to everything else around him. Naive wasn’t the word exactly. Unsuspecting perhaps, too good. Why else would he have so recklessly and thoughtlessly thrown himself into Geralt’s life and effectively into life-threatening danger all those years back? Human he might be, but there was not a bone of human meanness in the bard. He was kind in a way that had shocked Geralt in the beginning, embracing Geralt with open arms and going beyond that to completely turn his reputation on its head and save the witcher so much heartache.

From the Butcher of Blaviken to the White Wolf. It was all thanks to Jaskier. He stole a glance at Jaskier now, cantering alongside him, grimacing slightly as he was hit by a new whiff of overwhelming lavender, and as always when he was sure the other wasn’t looking, he took his time to linger over him. His beautiful and joyful blue eyes, his round nose, his high-cheekbones, his curved lips. The way the material of his doublet was stretched taut on his upper-arms and shoulders, and his thighs – gods his thighs. Splayed over the sides on the horse, strong and muscular. Geralt hummed under his breath, slipping in his usual fantasies of how those thighs would look wrapped around his back, ankles crossed behind him.

Snapping back to reality after his reverie, Geralt looked ahead again and focused on the contract at hand. They were in Temeria at this point, and getting closer to where the werewolves were last spotted.

‘Jas, let’s make camp here for today. Night will fall soon and I can hear wolf howls coming from the woods ahead. There’s a river nearby which should provide us with fresh water too. ’

Jaskier nodded. They both dismounted their horses and went about setting up a rudimentary fire to cook on and keep them warm throughout the cold night.

Jaskier waited a while into the night. He made sure Geralt was sound asleep, as evidenced by his soft (dare he say _adorable_ ) snores and that the fire was burning low, smouldering into embers. Once the coast was clear, he took out his ointment again, unscrewed the top and started to reapply generous swabs of it to his chest again. He knew this whole thing was ridiculuos, akin to one of his best farces yet except it wasn’t on stage, but it had worked so far and he knew he only needed to stick it out one more day.

Suddenly, a vicious growl made him jump and almost drop the jar, ‘ _JASKIER_ ’.

‘WHAT? You scared the living daylights out of me! I thought you were asleep.’

‘Fuck your bed-bug rash and throw that fucking jar away. I can’t take another day of riding with that shit in my nostrils – no, that’s unfair. Because I would rather smell actual shit all day than that.’ Jaskier could feel Geralt glaring at him in the darkness because it was burning metaphorical holes into his skull.

‘What kind of a friend are you? You’d rather see me suffer, my skin _burning_ and _chafing_ rather than withstand it for one more day? What’s a single day in the life of a witcher? Absolutely nothing. Yet you can’t seem to make this one small sacrifice for me even now Geralt, it’s typical What about me? I have to put up with your huffy, crotchety, cantankerous attitude all day as well as deal with this rash, and now you won’t even allow me that. Typical.’

It’s not that he was lying, per se, it’s that he’d convinced himself at this point that the rash was real and that he was in fact suffering from bed-bug rash. Like this, he was just playing another character and not lying to Geralt through his teeth.

Geralt grunted, and the rustling of clothes lead Jaskier to believe he’d turned his back to him instead of indulging him with a reply. He could breathe easy. One more day and this would be done with.

Except, of course, that things never play out the way we want them to.

* * *

It was still early morning when Jaskier awoke, the sun was barely shining and the dew was still fresh on the tree leaves and sprigs of brush around them. He could feel it in the air, the way his breath come out in condensed little clouds. He looked over at Geralt, who was splayed across his bed-roll, his two swords close by his side and his shirt riding up just so so that he could peak at his pale, hard chest underneath. Jaskier shuddered, and this time it wasn’t because of the cold.

He got up and brushed himself off. After last night’s little spat, he wanted to do something thoughtful for Geralt to make up for his lying, even if Geralt didn't know that he was being lied to. Guilt clung to him, for being dishonest with his closest friend, for getting himself into this mess in the first place, for still managing to be a hindrance to Geralt in the stupidest ways imaginable. But even with all this guilt, he knew he would do whatever it took to stay by his side, including slathering himself in ointment in the dead of night like some strange pervert.

So, breakfast. He’d spotted some mushrooms on their way to this spot next to the river the day before, and he was almost certain they were edible. Gingerly he walked to the beginning of the woods, away from the open area they’d set up camp in. This far on the outskirts, no monsters would be roaming about and he’d be safe to forage in peace.

After just half an hour, singing loudly all the while, he was satisfied he’d collected enough food to cook up a roaring feast. He was about to straighten up when he heard it – a low rumbling sound coming from behind him and leaves crackling underfoot, just not from under his feet. He turned around slowly, shaking slightly now because he could sense in his bones, some deep primal instinct that he couldn’t explain, that he was in deep deep shit.

As he turned around slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, he finally set eyes on his predator. All the food he’d been cradling in his arms fell to the floor at his feet. It was a werewolf. This wasn’t the first werewolf quest he’d been on with Geralt, and he knew enough about them now to know this one was larger than usual – it stank more and there was a certain wildness in its eyes which suggested whatever was once human in it had long receded. Perhaps even disappeared. He had no clue why it would have ventured out this far outside of the woods, especially since the last report Geralt had had was that it was far deeper inside the woods, close to an abandoned mansion. All he knew was that the small dagger hidden inside his doublet wasn’t going to be of much use.

The werewolf took one step closer, still rumbling and snarling, claws scraping over the tree barks on either side of it, spit dangling from its clenched jaws. Jaskier mirrored it by taking one step backwards, but immediately hit the trunk of the tree behind him.

‘ _I’m so fucked_ ’, he whispered under his breath. He was effectively trapped. Shakily, he reached inside his doublet and retrieved the dagger. 

‘Stay back! I’m warning you, don-don’t get any closer!’

With his voice so shaky, he was pretty sure the werewolf wouldn’t be so convinced by his threat. But by fucking Melitele, if this was the way he was going down, he wasn’t going to do it without a fight. _I’m sorry Geralt, please forgive me_. He knew even lavender, peppermint and rose concoctions wouldn’t block the smell of his blood in the crisp morning. The first thing Geralt would notice when he woke up.

The beast took another step towards him, dropping its arm from the tree trunk and instead grabbing the ground underneath like it was about to pounce. It never got the chance to, though, because exactly at that moment the point of a silver sword slid straight through its chest. The werewolf started screeching, but it was futile. The sword turned straight up, and was viciously ripped upwards through its head until it was clear of all tissue, rendering the werewolf almost split in twain from top to toe. Its body slumped forwards, revealing Geralt’s blood-drenched figure behind it. He was panting hard, his silver hair falling wildly around him, still in his bed shirt (although he’d managed to put his witcher pants and boots on). His eyes locked with Jaskier’s and he immediately dropped the sword, striding towards the bard frantically.

Geralt’s hands were all over Jaskier, checking his face, his chest, his entire body.

‘ _Are you hurt anywhere? Are you ok? Jaskier – Jas_ ,’ he grabbed his chin carefully and tilted it slowly upwards to make Jaskier forcibly meet his gaze. Jaskier’s eyes revealed he was still in shock, but otherwise unharmed.

‘I’m fine. Than - thank you. Thank you for saving my life yet again. How did you find me?’

Satisfied with this answer, Geralt took a step backwards from the intimate space he’d crowded the smaller man into against the tree.

‘The werwolf’s growling woke me up, and then I heard your voice. Which reminds me.’ With one swift movement, he inelegantly lifted Jaskier up and folded him over his shoulder, Jaskier’s legs dangling in front and his upper body slung behind his back.

‘Ger-Geralt! Do we need to have another chat about randomly picking people up without their consent? Put me down!’

If Geralt could roll his eyes right out of his skull, he would've done so at this moment, ‘Shut up. You’ll be down soon.’

Steadily and swiftly, Geralt made his way back to the camp, Jaskier shouting in protest the whole way, walking straight past it and heading for the river instead. He waded in waist-deep and at this point, Jaskier was straight up kicking at Geralt and yelling.

‘No, it’s too cold. I goose-pimple so easily. Don’t – don’t!’ It was another lie, although a much stupider lie. Jaskier was afraid of how the water would wash away the ointment, revealing the other more intimate scent underneath, and was suddenly dreaming of having his back to a tree with a werewolf growling him down almost nostalgically. But it was too late, Geralt had picked him up again and flung him into the deeper part of the river. He strode over to him again, and dunked him again after making sure the bard had caught his breath.

‘Ger-Geralt! Geralt please, wait,’ gasped Jaskier before the second dunk, ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘If you weren’t drenched in that gods-forsaken _crap_ I would’ve smelt both the werewolf and your fear well before I heard either of you. What if I was even a second too late?,’ golden eyes locked on blue and Jaskier noticed a slight tremble in the witcher’s voice for the first time, ‘What if I was even one fucking second later than I was? You want to risk that? For fucking bed-bug rash? Even you aren’t that ridiculous.’

Rather unceremoniously, Geralt dunked Jaskier again.

‘Ger-Geralt wait,' Jaskier spluttered. This had gone on for long enough now. Playing a fun trick on Geralt was one thing, freaking him out and causing him distress was another. Besides - the smell of cum was probably gone by now anyway and Geralt wouldn't lose his shit over it, they would just laugh about how stupid Jaskier had been and move on. Right?

'I can explain. I haven’t been entirely honest with you, and now in light of everything I hope you’ll agree that my fears were baseless and foolish, you see, the rea-’ Jaskier stopped dead in his tracks because Geralt was turning a paler shade than his usual, one might even call it 'stoney'. His nostrils were flaring. _Oh no_. Something in Jaskier died then, knowing that they weren't going to laugh about it and make jokes about how stupid he'd been. All of his worst fears were coming true.

‘Geralt?’

There was a heavy pause, and Jaskier could see from Geralt’s expression that he was putting the pieces together right then and there. He braced himself for impact.

‘Are you going to tell me you’ve been putting on that shit to cover up _this_ smell?’ he growled low, stepping closer to Jaskier and pushing his palm against Jaskier’s stomach, right where the cum had been pooled when he’d woken up the previous day.

‘When?’ he whispered.

His voice had gone eerily quiet. His blood ran cold. He’d only known Geralt to get this terrifyingly livid when Ciri’s safety was at risk. He'd always pitied the person on the other end of it, and now - in some cruel twist of fate - that person was him. Jaskier sucked in a deep breath. This was it. Geralt was going to walk away from him and never come back.

‘The night before we met. I was performing, I got drunk, there was a hot guy hitting on me at the inn and one thing lead to another. But I don’t see why it matters when it hap-‘

Geralt's words were coming out through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, ‘So while I was in Tretogar working on a contract, you were in bed at an inn getting fucked by another man? The night before we were planned to meet? After you promised me last time, never again. You really care so little for me?’

Something about the phrase ‘another man’ triggered a new reaction in Jaskier which he wasn’t planning on; rage so quick to spark that it matched Geralt’s lividity in how volatile it was. Yes, he’d promised those years back, and yes he’d picked up on a tinge of hurt in all the anger in Geralt’s tone. But he hadn’t actually done anything wrong and Geralt was the one who was projecting some bizarre and out-of-character hatred about his sexuality onto him, expecting him to feel guilty about it like some cuckolded husband. Well, he was fed up with it and fed up with having to tip-toe around it every time they were together.

‘So what if it’s yet _another_ man? What, like I’m some cheap whore who spends his time roaming from bed to bed when you’re not around? Like I’ll bend over for whoever wants to shove his cock up my ass. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. In fact, yes Geralt – I have sex with men I find attractive, lots of men,’ Jaskier plowed on, even though he’d definitely noticed that Geralt’s growling was getting more and more pronounced, and despite every rational thought in his brain, it was somehow still turning him on, ‘I like it hard and rough, and _gods_ it feels amazing. So fuck you – fuck you if you can’t handle that. I can’t believe,’ he cut himself off with a sharp laugh, ‘I can’t fucking believe I went to all that trouble to try and mask the smell after what happened last time. I should’ve shown up and revelled in it. Here’s me, fucked by _yet another_ man.’

The palm Geralt had flat against Jaskier’s stomach turned into a clenched fist, catching the fabric of Jaskier’s shirt in it. He pulled the bard closer to him, cementing their lower halves together. He was looking down at him through the wet silver hair falling in front of his eyes. His bed-shirt was drenched, clinging to his perfectly chiselled muscles, showing hints of his many scars through the thin fabric. Jaskier’s jaw came unhinged and remained gaping. Maybe it was the mutual tense rage, maybe it was the proximity, maybe it was the animalistic aura Geralt was currently emanating, whatever it was, he could feel the blood starting to pool in his dick, straining slightly at his wet trousers. This was incredibly inappropriate, given the situation, but Jaskier had as much control over his cock as he did over a rampaging harpy.

His voice was low, predatory, ‘I _mean_ , I have _always_ meant _, a man other than me.’_ His hand was still fisted in Jaskier’s shirt and Geralt could trace the way Jaskier’s heartbeat immediately started racing, his breath coming out uneven as a response.

‘Don’t fuck with me on this Geralt you fucking bastard,' he hissed, still angry and trying to wrench himself out of Geralt's grasp, 'If you have one shred of respect for me and our friendship, don’t fuck with me on this’.

Geralt was perfectly calm and still, holding on Jaskier firmly. He was done tiptoeing around and stealing glances. It was now or never.

‘I’m not. I would never, not about this. I’ve wanted you so badly for years. Any day I’m with you outstrips all the other days in the year. I want to be around you all the time, but knowing I can’t have you when I'm around you, when I can feel your warmth so close to me and so out of reach, it's like ...it's fucking torture,’ Geralt whispered, ‘The number of times I’ve wondered what it would be like to be inside you, to fuck into you when we’re alone together on cold nights, wrap my fingers around your cock and make you spill over my fingers. To make you smell like _me_ and not some asshole you met at the pub the night before,’ he spat out the last sentence, ‘Do you know what it’s like? What it does to me when you show up smelling like you’ve been slicked up in seed, driving myself crazy thinking about how it happened, what you looked like, what face you showed them when you went over the edge, what name was on your lips. The only things I don’t know about you, have never been allowed to see or hear.’

Jaskier moaned low in his throat, his cock now fully hard and clearly visible, jutting out against the tightness of his trousers’ crotch area. _Is this really happening? Is this for real?_

‘What name is on my lips? I have to literally bite back your name every time I’m with someone else. Do you know what you do to _me_? I thought you hated me, I thought you were going to abandon me after the last time. I’m so in love with you I act like a blathering idiot around you all the time. I thought it was obvious, I thought you were politely ignoring it. All those men I slept with, they’re nothing compared to you,' he paused, looking earnestly and openly at Geralt, 'I’ve only ever wanted you.’

Geralt’s hand unfisted itself from Jaskier’s shirt and wrapped itself around his waist. Jaskier’s eyes fluttered closed momentarily; he could feel Geralt’s cock, thick and heavy and hard pressing against his thigh. He gasped openly, which made Geralt press him tighter to him. _Fuck he’s huge_.

‘You love me?’

‘Yes, you moron, I love you,’ Jaskier was honestly impressed that he could still form words, but this was so incredibly important.

The brightest and warmest smile he’d ever seen broke out across Geralt’s face. It lit up his entire being like he was glowing from the inside, ‘That’s good. Because I love you too.’

Jaskier felt like his heart really was going to burst this time, and he would happily die right here this very second. This was beyond his wildest dreams, beyond anything he ever hoped was possible. 

And then, _finally_ , Geralt sealed his lips over Jaskier’s, melding their mouths together in a searing kiss. Jaskier felt another moan coming from somewhere deep inside of him, vibrating in his throat as Geralt’s demanding tongue claimed him completely, desire swelling inside of him. His leg wedged itself between Jaskier’s thighs, pushing up desperately against his crotch as Jaskier started to unashamedly ride it; the sensation of his hard dick sliding over Geralt’s tense muscles was as close to divinity as he’d come to in his short life. Geralt’s lips, body, _everything_ , was infinitely rougher, sweeter and better than anything he’d conjured up in his dreams and he was immediately addicted to it like a drug addict to the purest dose of fisstech.

Keeping his leg in place, Geralt pulled away from the kiss and tilted Jaskier’s chin up slowly, forcing him to look at him like he’d done in the woods. Geralt bit his lip and groaned under his breath at the sight before him. Jaskier’s mouth was pink and swollen from the attention lavished on it, his cheeks flushed, and the rest of him was still drenched, his hair sticking to his face and were his clothes moulded to his figure. He looked like he’d been _wrecked,_ and he wasn’t even close to getting started yet. Much as he liked their current position, he didn’t want Jaskier to go over the edge from dry humping for their first time together.

‘Jaskier.’

‘Mmm.’

‘You’re going to do exactly what I say now, aren’t you?’ Geralt whispered. Jaskier wasn’t sure how a whisper could exert such total control over him, but every syllable felt like it was going straight to his cock. Everywhere Geralt’s body was touching his was on fire, he was electrifyingly aware of how bigger than him the witcher was, his presence, the strength he was holding back in his fingers and muscles where he was touching him. If his entire body wasn’t resting on his leg at that moment, he was sure his knees would have buckled just from the sheer expectation of those words and the knowledge that he was about to be fucked like he’d never been before.

‘Yes, gods yes, I’ll do anything you want Geralt – I’m yours.’

Geralt groaned throatily in deep satisfaction, pulling Jaskier in again for another searing kiss.

‘Good boy.’

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s hand and dragged him back to the relative dryness of the river-side.

‘Take off your clothes,’ Geralt ordered.

Without breaking eye contact, Jaskier started to shed item after item of clothing, starting with his doublet, moving on to his boots, undershirt and finally, his trousers. He could feel the heat of Geralt’s gaze on his fingers as he slowly pushed down the hem on his pants, his cock finally free of its trappings, fully stiff and lifting upwards, the tip already glistening with leaking precum.

‘You’re so fucking beautiful, Jaskier. I’ve thought about you like this so often in my head. When we’ve shared a bed together, when I let you ride Roach with me, whenever you’re near me, whenever I can smell your clothes, your hair, your _skin_ ,’ Geralt closed his eyes momentarily, ‘the scent of you drives me crazy. Only _your_ scent does this to me.’

Jaskier would deny this later on, but he outrightly started whining at this point. He was cold, naked, fully erect, and getting impossibly harder by the second.

‘That’s the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me. Can you please touch me again? I’m dying over here.’

‘Tsk, so demanding. Not yet. Come to me.’

Languidly, Jaskier walked over to Geralt and got as close to him as he physically could until he could feel the witcher’s breath on his face, and he had to look up at him through his eyelashes to see his eyes.

‘Undress me.’

Jaskier was more than happy to comply and he took his time with pulling Geralt’s shirt over his head, running his hands slowly over his chest, his abdominals, tracing every single one of the scars he’d longed to touch for so many years. Each one had its own history, and he knew most of it if not all. But he’d never been allowed this intimacy before, the luxury to linger and kiss softly. To press his lips on the place where he knew his heart was, trying to urgently communicate all the love he felt in that moment. A part of him almost wanted to cry, the overwhelming sensation that he’d reached a new level of closeness to the person he loved and cared for most in the world hitting him unexpectedly in this act of worship.

‘Jas-Jaskier,’ Geralt stuttered. He held onto Jaskier’s shoulders as he kicked off his boots.

‘Yes, you’re right. I’m coming, my love,’ and with that Jaskier started to pull down Geralt’s pants, his hands trembling with anticipation and eagerness. Finally, what he’d felt against his thigh earlier was revealed to him – and he was not disappointed in the least. Geralt’s cock was huge, far bigger than his own (and Jaskier had never once felt inferior to any of his male partners when it came to that area, in fact he’d been on the giving end as much as on the receiving), thick and with a bulging vein running down the left hand side of it. Carefully, Jaskier grabbed his cock from the base, entranced by how hot and heavy it felt. He placed his other hand on Geralt’s thigh to steady himself. Slowly, he started to steadily pump the base of his cock, and immediately Geralt’s hands flew to his shoulders and dug in frantically, pressing down hard.

Jaskier ran his tongue up the length of Geralt’s cock and lapped at the slit of the head, pushing at it when Geralt raked his nails over his shoulders, taking this as encouragement that he was doing something right. He lovingly placed a kiss on the tip before taking it completely in his mouth in one smooth movement, bobbing up and down in the same rhythm as his hand. His lips stretched over the width of the cock and he let just a hint of his teeth catch on the pulsing veins as he moved.

‘Ja-agh, hnnn,’ Geralt was only managing half-choked moans and still scrabbling desperately at Jaskier’s shoulders and back.

Growing more confident with every moan elicited from his lover, Jaskier picked up the pace – moving his mouth expertly up and down. He swallowed down the length inch by inch until he could feel the head almost touching the back of his throat, making him choke but not wanting to let up. He wanted to make sure Geralt could feel his lips wrapped around his cock for weeks to come, when they’d gone their separate ways and he was back on the road alone. He willed Geralt to know how much he wanted him and wanted to please him, worship him like nobody had before.

Geralt was getting close, so fucking close he could almost _taste_ it. His dick was throbbing more violently with every second that passed.

‘Jaskier!’ yelled Geralt, trying to warn him he was about to come. He tried to pull himself out of Jaskier’s mouth, but Jaskier wouldn't let him. _Fuck no_ , he’d dreamt about what Geralt would taste like since he'd first laid eyes on him in that tavern, and he wasn't about to let a single drop go to waste. Jaskier placed both of his hands on Geralt’s hips, holding him still inside of him. This simple act of invitation was the last straw for Geralt’s self-control. He felt himself going numb as he spilled over the edge, shooting rope after rope of cum into Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier hummed contentedly around his cock, swallowing down everything the witcher gave him. They stayed like this for a minute longer, Jaskier milking off of the still hard cock to make sure he’d sucked out every bead. Once he was happy, he let his cock gently slip from his mouth with a soft _plop_ and lifted his face up to look at Geralt. Whatever he was going to say froze in his throat, because Geralt’s eyes were blown completely black like they’d turn when he’d had one too many one of his highly toxic potions. He looked predatory.

 _Did I do that to him_? He shuddered, the thought was incredibly arousing and he couldn’t help but wonder what else he could do to him to elicit this reaction from him again and again and again. Fuck, how was he ever going to look at him like this in battle again and not get an instant boner?

Geralt grabbed him by his shirt again and dragged him upright. He pulled him in for a kiss, chasing the taste of his own cum inside Jaskier’s mouth.

‘That was incredibly hot,’ he murmured, ‘It’s nice to see your mouth has other more prominent talents than what earns you a living.’

Jaskier laughed, jokingly punching him in the shoulder as Geralt titled his head at him endearingly, as though to say even if Jaskier wanted to punch him for real, he wouldn’t feel a thing anyway, but he’d play along with the charade for his bard’s sake.

‘Shut up, giving head is only third on the list of mouth-related talents of Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.’

In the relatively short time span of one morning, Geralt felt like his eyes were about to roll out of his skull with sheer exasperation yet again.

‘Ok Viscount, how about _you_ shut up and instead just do what I say.’

‘That sounds good t-‘ the rest of what he was about to say was cut off by a gasp, as Geralt had reached down between them and was rubbing both of their cocks together. Jaskier was painfully hard after all the recent excitement and with the friction of his foreskin getting caught and dragged down by Geralt’s dick, he wasn’t going to last very long. Just the sight of his cock looking tiny side by side with Geralt’s was driving him crazy. He dug his nails into Geralt’s arms, moaning wildly as Geralt started pumping faster and faster.

‘You like it, don’t you? Seeing how small your cock looks next to mine? Knowing that this is what you were built for, that this is how it’s supposed to be. I’m going to fuck you so hard the only name you’ll know is mine.’

Jaskier doesn’t know what’s up or down anymore, all he can hear is his blood pumping in his ears and Geralt’s filthy words. He can feel himself coming close. Suddenly, Geralt leans forward and mumbles low and hot in his ear –

‘Come for me like a good boy Viscount.’

And with that, Jaskier shouts out blindly, his toes curling inwards and his mind blissed out as roll after roll of orgasm sweeps him up, spilling all over Geralt’s hand and cock. He’s still spurting out the last of what’s in him as Geralt lifts his hand up to his lips and licks at the thick white streaks. Jaskier isn’t of much use right now, his mind still not fully back in reality. Whimpering, he watches as Geralt wraps his hand back round his sensitive spent cock and his own rock hard member, pumps a few more times with his eyes locked on Jaskier’s and comes again with a grunt.

‘Did you – how did you just come again so soon and with so much?’ gasps Jaskier.

Geralt smirks in a way that makes Jaskier want to kiss him senseless, ‘Yeah, one of the few perks of being a witcher.’

‘So, what’s your limit?’

‘I’ve got to four in one night. But I stopped more because I lost interest rather than steam.’

Jaskier’s breathing hitched. He knew this time round he wouldn’t manage more than one more spend, but he was already drawing up future plans for _really_ testing Geralt’s limits. The thought of it made him warm all over, in a turned on kind of way, but also in a giddy kind of way because now he could do things like think of the next time, and the next time, and the time after that. Because the cat was out of the bag and was never going back in. The knowledge of that was a high of its own, separate from the post-orgasmic high he was currently riding.

‘That’s good,’ Jaskier murmured, threading his fingers together and looping them behind Geralt’s neck to drag his head down and whisper in his ear, ‘all those wet dreams about you I’ve had, your weight on me, fucking me, spilling your hot cum inside me – you can still make them come true, right?’

Immediately, Geralt’s lips were on his again, claiming them and seeking out the warmth of his mouth. It was rough, their tongues meeting and caressing as teeth nipped at lips. But it was the urgency in the kiss that made Jaskier feel like he was coming undone. Like he was a flower blooming underneath Geralt’s touch, like his very soul was compelling him to open up and bare himself to him, completely naked and vulnerable. The intimacy of it was like nothing he’d ever experienced with anyone else before.

Geralt pulled away, instead gently cupping the back of Jaskier’s head and supporting his lower back as he slowly lowered his lover to the ground, hovering above him. The cold wetness of the grass pressed into Jaskier’s skin, and it should’ve be uncomfortable, but all he could focus on was Geralt’s black eyes staring at him.

‘Remind me - you like it _hard_ and _rough_ , right?’

‘Fuck yes.’

Sparks of pleasure rolled up Jaskier’s spine as he felt two of Geralt’s thick fingers coarsely work their way inside of him, making him arch his back off of the grass and whine low in his throat.

‘Ge-Geralt!’

Each crook of Geralt’s fingers, each knuckle that pressed itself into a sensitive place was sending jolts throughout his whole body, and it wasn’t long before his cock started swelling once more. He could feel himself loosening around the two digits as they worked him open, slipping deeper inside of him.

When Geralt added the third finger, he almost lost his control completely and went over the edge. It was too much, the friction, the tightness, the _fullness_.

‘Geralt, Geralt _please_ – I can’t, I can’t hold out much longer. I _need you_ ,’ Jaskier gasped.

Black eyes locked onto his, ‘Always so impatient. Go ahead, I want to see you fuck yourself on my fingers because you’re so desperate to be stuffed with my cock.’

Moaning uninhibitedly, he planted his arms on either side of him and started to fuck down on Geralt’s fingers recklessly, uncaring to what Geralt’s movements or intentions were. He needed to be fucked and he needed to be fucked now. All he wanted to feel was the roughness and the friction, hitting him deep inside. Geralt met him thrust for thrust, twisting and curling his fingers just so, relishing in his bard’s aching cries.

‘I’m so close, I’m so fucking close Geralt,’ Jaskier whimpered.

‘Mm, not just yet,’ Geralt said, and with that he pulled out his hand and fingers completely. Jaskier cried out at the loss, feeling the emptiness sweep over him immediately and wanting not more than to be full again.

He didn’t have to wait very long. Instead of fingers, Jaskier could now feel Geralt’s cock pressing against his entrance, pushing against the loosened ring of muscle. Even then, even after having three of Geralt’s thick and rough fingers inside of him, he’s still not fully prepared for when he slides inside of him slowly, leaving a trail of fire with each push. Geralt’s hands fly to Jaskier’s hips, clawing at them and Jaskier grabs fistfuls of grass, trying to steady himself and not cum all over himself just yet.

‘I need a minute’, he said breathing slowly, ‘or maybe just a few seconds.’ Geralt nodded, his eyes glazed over. He was leaning over Jaskier’s chest, covered in a fine sheen of sweat with his wolf medallion dangling from his neck and grazing Jaskier’s stomach lightly. 

They held still for a few moments, breathing in tandem with one another and trying to regain some semblance of control. Then, with their gazes locked, Geralt pushed himself slowly right up the hilt, groaning uncontrollably once he bottomed out and dropping his head to rest of Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier felt like the fire had spread from his ass throughout his whole body, setting alight each nerve it touched. Geralt’s cock felt like it was splitting him open, and he knew in that moment that no other cock would ever sate him again.

‘You’re so fucking good for me, taking my cock all the way inside you, like you were made for it,’ Geralt murmured.

‘I want to be so good for you, only you Geralt, only you. Now please, _please,_ fuck me. I want to feel you inside me for weeks,’ Jaskier pleaded.

The growl that rumbled out of Geralt’s chest was nothing short of possessive and territorial. He pinned Jaskier’s arms above his head with one hand, and returned the other to his hips, gripping tightly. Then, he slowly pulled out of Jaskier until only the tip of his cock was still inside him, and he could feel the tightness of muscle pull back at his foreskin, and slammed back inside him. Jaskier arched his back again, and thrust his hips downwards, crying out and trying to get Geralt even deeper inside of him.

Geralt picked up a rhythm, fucking in and out of Jaskier like an animal breeding its mate, instinctively and carelessly. The sounds they were making were obscene - his balls slapped against Jaskier’s ass as he bottomed out with each thrust, which made sloppy wet sounds as Geralt slicked up Jaskier’s ass with his precum.

‘Touch me, please Geralt!,’ pants Jaskier, the desperation clear in his voice. His cock is stiff and swollen, slapping against his chest with every thrust from Geralt, begging for release.

‘You’re going to come from my cock inside you and nothing else, like a good boy.’

‘Fuucck – fuck, goddamn you.’

Suddenly, Jaskier’s moans picked up volume and fever, verging on sobs – and Geralt knew he’d found his sweet spot. He angled his thrusts, fucked into him just right twice more, and Jaskier cried out his name, 'Geralt!' and then was clenching uncontrollably around him. He spurt spasm after spasm all over himself, emptying his balls. It doesn’t take Geralt long after this, finally allowing all the overwhelming sensations to take over him and thrusting once more deeply into Jaskier and shooting hard into him, roaring as he goes over the edge.

He slides out of Jaskier slowly, and rolls over to one side of him so that they’re laying next to each other. They’re still panting hard and soaking in what had just happened. Jaskier winces with pain every time he tries to move. He's not going to be able to walk properly the next few days, let alone ride a horse. _Still worth it_.

'I guess now that you know what my face looks like when I cum and what name is on my lips, you know everything about me,' laughed Jaskier.

Turning to look at him, Jaskier noticed another smirk playing out on Geralt’s face.

‘Mmm. Both were better than what I imagined. An added bonus is I think I found my new favourite scent.’

‘Yeah what is it? River water and sex sweat with a hint of lavender? Heady combination, to be sure. Maybe we can bottle it up and sell that in the streets of Tretogar. We'd make a killing’

Geralt snorted, 'No. You smell like you, and you smell like me. You smell like _us_ ,’ Geralt said quietly, almost more to himself.

There was a short pause as Jaskier processed this information.

‘That’s so ... _fucking adorable_. I knew you had a thing about scents, but this is whole new levels of unchartered territory and sex kinks. Should I bottle up your cum and distill it with water? Spray it all over me before we meet? Would you jump me as soon as you scented me? Or before we have sex as an aphrodis- mmmff!’

In an attempt to get him to shut up, Geralt had pulled Jaskier in for another kiss. Jaskier didnt mind this, out of all the ways Geralt had tried to shut him up over the years – this was definitely the best and easiest to get used to.


End file.
